Eccentric, effective -- that's Childers

TALLAHASSEE -- "Minnie, Minnie come in here," state Sen. W.D. Childers urgently called to his longtime legislative aide Minnie Bush in his Capitol office last week.

It was nothing serious, really, just Childers wanting Bush to share the joy of listening to country legends Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs give their wild rendition of Ol' McDonald Had A Farm on his CD player.

"With an oink oink here and an oink oink there . . ."

Bush listened and smiled and gave a look that seemed to say this was just another strange day in the world of the Florida Senate's longest-serving and most eccentric member.

Childers, who occasionally describes himself as a Neanderthal, a runt and an expert frog gigger (one who pokes at bullfrogs with a sharp stick), is serving his last term after 30 years of representing Senate District 1, which borders Alabama on two sides and includes Holmes, Washington and parts of five other Northwest Florida counties.

During his tenure, Childers has developed a reputation that is extremely difficult to pin down. He is known by some as a maverick, a wiseacre and an oddball.

"I'm just a hick," he says.

Day after day, Childers behaves in ways that seem to support that statement.

He wears clothes such as purple suit coats, black and white polka-dot ties, and dress shoes without socks.

He cracks jokes in committee meetings that contain odd Old South sayings or punch lines that might draw a laugh only on a hunting trip in rural Washington County (he recently suggested to an animal rights advocate that the best way to handle a neighbor's wild dog was with a shotgun.)

And he seems to say whatever comes to his mind, openly criticizing people he thinks need a kick in the pants or brashly cutting through the political fog many lawmakers use to hide their true intentions.

Sometimes, Childers seems oblivious that he is behaving outside the boundaries of traditional legislative norms.

On a recent day, baseball Hall of Fame slugger Reggie Jackson paid a visit to Childers' office to push a program to bring technology to Florida's public schools. Without warning, Childers proceeded to show Jackson his ready-to-wear tie collection, a blazing rainbow of strangely colored ties that contain a zipper in the knot for easy tightening.

Holding up a tie with 20 different colored diagonal stripes, Childers told Jackson that "this tie looks great with anything. Man, you can wear this with overalls."

Childers laughed like a child, and Jackson displayed a gesture common to those who first experience Childers' antics: the eye roll.

"No matter how you describe it, his behavior seems to work for him up here," said Sen. Betty Holzendorf, D-Jacksonville, who has served in the Legislature for 12 years. "A lot of us couldn't get away with that, but W.D. has earned the kind of respect that allows him to have that kind of approach."

'Bad for the people'

Childers' approach, however, doesn't always put him in favor with those who oppose him on an issue.

Rep. Bill Sublette, R-Orlando, for example, battled Childers for three years on title loan legislation, with Childers pushing a lax industry-supported bill and Sublette spearheading a strict consumer advocate-supported bill. Their dealings, and Childers' stubborn opposition to reform of the title loan industry, left Sublette with an intense distaste for Childers.

"I know he's colorful, but colorful doesn't equate to integrity," Sublette said. "I think he's bad for the people of Florida, I think he's bad for this process, and I think he sends out a message that is a crass unconcern for the public's will and for right and wrong."

Sublette went on to say that he "wouldn't trust W.D. as far as I could throw him."

When told of Sublette's remarks, Childers responded in a style that helped garner him the nickname "The Banty Rooster."

"He better bring the National Guard if he wants to try to throw me," Childers said with a laugh. "Mr. Sublette needs to have his mouth washed out with soap. And I can't help it if Mr. Sublette is a non-producer."

Those statements come from a man who claims he has mellowed in his old age, doesn't hold a grudge and gives nary a thought to what others think or say about him.

In reality, the exchange with Sublette reveals the contradictions that seem to surround Childers, his behavior and his statements, and highlight why he is such a hard man to pigeonhole.

Consider these statements Childers made in a recent daylong interview:

"I'm just thinking about today. If you worry about the future it'd run you nuts."

Sounds fine, but this from a senator who constantly reminds reporters that after he's forced out of office this fall he will immediately run for a seat on the Escambia County Commission. Childers also considered challenging in court his ouster via term limits, and has promised that he will run for the Senate again after his term on the county commission.

"I'm a soft touch."

Sure he is. Just ask retired Navy Capt. Dave Faraldo of Jacksonville, who also faced off against Childers during the title loan debate last year. During a committee hearing, Childers infuriated Faraldo by referring to him by any military title Childers could think of other than Faraldo's proper title.

"Childers is a poster child for term limits," Faraldo said recently. "W.D. Childers had so much power in the Senate that no one was willing to stand up to him."

Reminded of the spat with Faraldo, the "soft touch" Childers laughed openly, and eventually acknowledged that he mixed up Faraldo's titles on purpose to get under his skin.

"This ain't Sunday school we're in," Childers said, defending his actions. "It's raw, dirty, down-in-the-gutter slimy politics, that's what were in, and you've got to be able to adapt to that, get in there and turn with them."

"You've got to be sincere in what you're doing because people will find you out."

Fifteen minutes after making that statement, Childers made a seemingly diametric statement about telling the truth and called it "the Code of W.D."

"If I talk to you and give you a statement, it's true," he said. "There might be some missing places, missing words or missing links, I might not tell everything, but I'm not going to lie to you and there's nothing wrong with that."

Extremely effective

But despite his outlandishness, occasional combativeness and frequent contradictions, the 66-year-old Childers is known in Tallahassee as a skillful lawmaker who understands the political game better than most and will use any means to ensure that his goals for his district are accomplished.

"He is probably one of the two or three most effective people who ever served in the Senate," said Sen. Pat Thomas, D-Quincy, who with 25 years in the Senate is second only to Childers in longevity. "He leaves an imprint on government that will never be touched, and back home you can't drive 5 miles without seeing something with his imprint on it."

Thomas also has felt Childers' wrath over the years. He recently recalled one incident 20 years ago where the two were on opposite sides of an issue and an angry Childers tried to muzzle Thomas by arranging to have all the phones in Thomas' office disconnected.

"He's the best friend I have up here, but he's got a temper like a damn wildcat if you cross him," Thomas said.

Childers said his biggest accomplishments are the roads and parks he's helped fund in his district. But he perhaps will be best remembered for engineering the bill that allowed the state to sue the nation's biggest tobacco companies for medical costs incurred by Florida residents. The language Childers inserted into a 1997 Medicaid liability bill led to a lawsuit settled out of court that brought the state $13 billion. While the conventional view in Tallahassee is that Childers sneaked the tobacco-specific language into that bill, Childers said he and the late Gov. Lawton Chiles lobbied lawmakers heavily on the matter and that most fully realized their intent.

Three years later, Childers is unapologetic about his efforts, though he is critical of the way a dozen Florida lawyers, including his good friend Fred Levin, walked away with $4 billion for their efforts. He also is upset that the state is now taking steps to protect the tobacco companies from bankruptcy.

"The plan was not to get money for schools or for kids or for some other master plan," Childers recalled recently. "We wanted that money to stick it to the tobacco companies as much as we could. I wanted to put them out of business because they hooked me [on chewing tobacco] when I was 8."

That bullish attitude hasn't waned in Childers, and it seems as though he is serious when he says he will "keep working until I die."

Childers wants to come back to the Senate and wreak havoc on the new breed of lawmakers he says will be hand-picked and controlled by powerful Florida lobbyists. Childers calls the new legislators "the nerds."

"That's what we'll become over here, the city of the nerds," Childers said. "I'll come back and take on all the nerds."